Chapter 10
Baylor
It’s not the first time I’ve fucked up.
I can confidently say it’s not the tenth or the hundredth either. A thousand times might be pushing it, though. I’m not that bad.
Yet I’ve successfully fucked up with Lauralee.
Slamming my hands down on the steering wheel, I stare out at the sun rising in the distance over the open road that leads to the ranch. It’s a sight to behold and one I miss more often than not these days when I’m in Manhattan. But it can’t take the sting away.
Should I turn around and apologize?
Or let it lie like I usually do?
I honestly thought Lauralee and I were on the same page, so I’m not sure why she took offense to me stating the obvious. Maybe it’s that simple. It didn’t need to be said. So when I did, it messed up what we’d just shared.
Ultimately, isn’t this best ?
No misunderstandings.
No confusion as to where things stand.
No feelings getting hurt in the aftermath of whatever this is. Well, other than what’s already been said.
Crossing the cattleguard reminds me of all the times I used to try to sneak back home in high school.
I knew how slow I needed to go to keep from alerting the entire ranch and, more importantly, my parents back then.
Now, here I am, a grown man going four miles an hour over the metal grate hoping to keep everyone here less wise to my comings and goings.
I park a little way back from the main house, figuring I might be able to sneak into the house and get a few hours of sleep in my old room at the top of the stairs versus heading down to my sister’s place and trying to get past the kids unnoticed.
When I carefully close the rental car’s door, I hear, “Creeping around your old haunts?” I spy my best friend coming from the barn with a bucket in his hand. “Or sleeping around with your old hookups?”
“Now, Tagger. Don’t be jealous,” I say, chuckling as I walk toward him. Tossing my keys in the air, I catch them and stop with a few feet remaining between us. “Not all of us are settled down.” I pop the imaginary collar of my T-shirt. “Some of us still have some wild oats to sow.”
He chuckles. “Some of us are happier settled. You might want to consider trying the alternative.”
“I think I’m good for the time being.” Checking the time on my watch, I ask, “It’s Sunday. Why are you up and about so early?”
“It’s the only way I can make sure Pris gets her rest. Working the ranch is in her blood. She likes to be busy, so if I can beat her to some of the chores, she’s more likely to sleep in.”
Although their relationship came with some turmoil, mainly from me, I couldn’t have found a better match for my sister. He treats her how she deserves. As for her, she’s his perfect match—a partner and spouse. They make an envious team.
That is . . . if I were looking to be in a relationship and all that. I’m not, so it doesn’t matter. It’s just good they found each other, is all.
Glancing at the house, I say, “I’m going to head in and get some sleep.”
“Have a good one.”
I start for the house again but stop and turn back when I reach the porch. “Hey, Tagger?”
Turning around, he takes a few steps back from where he was heading. “Yeah?”
“When you and Christine were dating, was the long distance an issue?”
He studies me, then sets down the bucket. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he replies, “It was because of the woman. It wouldn’t have bothered me with anyone else I’d dated. With Pris, the distance was brutal. Have you met someone?”
Do I lie to him?
He’ll suss out the truth. He knows me too well to fall for my lies. I say, “There’s a woman of interest.”
Grinning, he rubs his chin. “There’s a lot of miles between Peachtree Pass and New York City. Dating long distance isn’t something I’d recommend, especially with a job as busy as yours is. But for the right woman . . .” Tagger just picks up his bucket and says, “I’ll see you later, man. ”
“See ya.”
Why am I even asking questions that I already know the answer to? Guilt? Lauralee’s mad. For now. She’ll be fine with her miles-long line of guys who’d kill to date her. I’m probably the last person she wants to be in a relationship with anyway.
I sneak into the house only to be greeted by my dad sitting at the breakfast table with a cup of steaming coffee. “Morning,” he says.
“Does anyone sleep around this ranch anymore?”
He laughs, which turns into a cough that he finally clears. “Did you see Chris or Tag out there?”
“Tagger.”
“He’s been a good addition to the ranch.” He sips from the mug. “And to the family.”
I shut the door behind me and hang the keys on a hook beside it. “Are we talking about Tagger now?”
Sitting back in the vinyl chair, he slides his mug closer to him across the yellow Formica-topped table with metal trim. Other than a few corners I nicked off growing up, that table will outlast us all.
“We’re talking about you, son.”
I run my fingers through my hair. “I just want to get some sleep.”
“We’ll talk later, then.”
Oh joy. Should I get it over with now or take his offer? “Yeah, probably best.” I walk to the stairs and head up.
When I reach the top, I hear him say, “Sunday is for resting. Get some good sleep, son.”
Before I close the door to the bedroom, I reply, “Thanks, Dad.”
Time slows here in Texas. It’s nice to embrace that effort, even if only for today. My dad seems to get that even if he has other things he wants to discuss on his mind. No use talking when tired. Nothing good will come of it.
Learned that firsthand.
After settling in, I lie in bed with my eyes closed, but my mind stirs too much to rest. I’m taken across the Pass to where I left, remembering how she moved on top of me, her hair falling over her shoulders, those brown eyes locked on mine.
The smile that played between the angel and the devil on her lips, her mood tempting her one way or the other with each rock of her body as she got closer to the reward.
I scrub a hand over my face. She’s so fucking sexy. Lauralee’s the kind of sexy that gets noticed in a room the moment she walks in, an unclaimed trait that she seems oblivious to possessing.
Yet she knows how to work when she wants to. I’ve seen her down at Whiskey’s in a good pair of fitted jeans, a halter top showing off that midriff, and even a short skirt a time or two. Lauralee Knot is an anomaly, that’s for sure.
Opening my eyes, I stare at the ceiling and the poster I hung when I was sixteen of a hot chick in a pink bikini and heavy makeup wielding a giant wrench.
Did I actually believe she was a mechanic?
Clearly, I could suspend belief back then when necessary.
The woman is hot but not really my type these days.
I close my eyes, this time keeping my mind off the one I want to think about, and try to get some sleep.
“Bay Bay,” Daisy says, standing on the picnic bench beside me and resting her head on my shoulder.
“You gonna miss me?”
When she nods, I set my fork down and swallow the potato salad I just shoveled into my mouth. Wrapping my arm around her, I kiss her chubby cheek. “I’m going to miss you, too.”
Beckett finishes chowing his corn on the cob and sets it down. “When can I come visit?”
While Daisy makes herself at home on my lap, I reply, “Anytime, buddy. I heard you still keep in touch with some of your friends from school in the city.”
“We play games online together.” His upper lip is stained red from Kool-Aid, always a telltale sign of summer on the ranch. His hair is lighter than it’s ever been, another sign. But he’s looking more like his dad every time I see him.
“Maybe you can see them when you’re up there.”
He looks at Tagger, who nods his approval. His dad asks, “That’d be fun, right?”
“Yeah. I’d need different clothes, though.”
That catches my sister’s attention from where she’s sitting at the end of the picnic table in a lawn chair. “Why is that, Beck?”
He shrugs. “I like my clothes, but they’re not for New York.”
I set a wiggly Daisy down, who’s quick to run to her mother, and say, “They’re for whatever you want them to be for. You be who you are. It will all work out how it’s supposed to.”
I’m not sure by the indifference on his face that he’s convinced, but he at least nods to give me some assurance. “We’re starting on the fort when you visit next. Right, Uncle Baylor?”
“You have your design ready, and we’ll get the wood next time I’m here.”
“I’ve already started.” Popping up, he asks, “Can I be excused? The team is forming at five. If I’m late, I don’t get to play with them.”
My dad says, “You did well finishing that meal. I’d say you can run along if it’s okay with your folks.”
You’d think he was about to pee his pants by how antsy he is when he looks at them. Christine says, “All good. We’ll let you know when we bring the cobbler out.” He’s already running when she adds, “Have fun.”
Tagger reaches over and takes Daisy from her mom and situates her on his shoulders as he stands. “You up for a walk, Baylor?”
We don’t get much guy time like we used to, so I have to take the offers when they come. “Sure.”
I come around the table when he leans down to kiss Christine on the head and whispers something that tickles a grin onto her face.
Following him when he trails toward the fence line, I have a feeling this is more than just hanging out.
The moment he sets Daisy down, she beelines right back to her mom, leaving him laughing.
“Wherever she ends up in life,” he says, “she’s going to be running the place.
She’s the sweetest kid, but she’s got fire in her. ”
“Like her mom.”
His laughter comes heartier. “Just like her.” We walk farther and eventually round the bend toward the equipment barn. The sun is still high in the late May sky, so there’s no relief walking along the gravel road that leads us there.
“This morning?—”
“We don’t need to rehash anything said before the sun rose.”
“How about finishing it? ”